


All Yours

by sweetestsorrows (katschako)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Creature Fic, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter is a Cockblock, Mating Bond, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Mythical Beings & Creatures, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining, Post-Hogwarts, Veela, Veela Draco Malfoy, Veela Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28941036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katschako/pseuds/sweetestsorrows
Summary: On his 21st birthday, Draco collapses. What was once a well-kept family secret is sure to disrupt his life in many ways; however, none will be as bothersome as the fact that his mate is Hermione Granger, of all people. While the years since the war ended have seen their antagonistic rivalry morph into a distant acquaintance, Draco is certain that she'll never agree to completing the bond required of a Veela and their mate. Why would she, after all he put her through when they were children?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 33
Kudos: 350
Collections: The Dramione Collection





	All Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the loml, [Sunny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/besmirchedmaiden/pseuds/besmirchedmaiden), for betaing and britpicking this story! She takes care of all my superfluous 'actually' and 'really' inclusions, and adds those pesky u's so my American doesn't show so much. I'm so blessed to know her. 💕

The first thing he noticed upon waking was her presence.

Draco didn’t know who she was. Yet, the effect she had on him was apparent. The ache in his chest that bloomed the night before finally abated, and somehow, on an instinctual level, he knew it was because of her. He still wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, but he felt relief knowing she was there.

Ever since his birthday arrived, all that existed was agony and the inky darkness of unconsciousness. What started as a celebration of his life, quickly devolved into a hellish nightmare.

Of course, as seemed to be his luck, it all happened with an audience. Despite Draco’s many, many requests for a casual evening to celebrate the occasion, Blaise disregarded him entirely. His friend claimed that a wizard only turned twenty-one once. After all the trauma they went through during the war, Blaise refused to let Draco waste the opportunity. So, Draco found himself, surrounded by the usual friends – Blaise, Theo, Pansy, Daphne, and Greg – and a crowd of strangers as the hours wound down on his twentieth year of life.

It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Several witches tried to make a pass at him and even went so far as to buy him drinks, but Draco was uninterested. A few months before he would have jumped at the opportunity of pursuing temporary companionship with any of the beautiful, eager witches that had their eye on him. Now, the thought of bringing someone to his bed made him feel ill. Perhaps he was coming down with a case of the Black Cat Flu. Either way, he politely declined all advances.

He was content to catch up with his friends and nurse the drink Blaise had forced in his hand. As soon as it was polite, Draco had every intention of returning to the Manor. Then, he could sleep until his body defeated whatever ailment was causing his stomach to turn, and his head to feel dizzy.

Except, when the clock struck midnight, everything faded to black. He heard an ear-splitting scream, soon joined by a chorus of cries and shrieks of horror. He felt the sharp sting of someone slapping his face gently but firmly. There was the muffled sound of Pansy barking directions, and then two arms supporting his weight on either side. He thought it might have been Greg and Theo, but it was hard to focus on anything other than the unbearable pain that threatened to split him in two.

It felt as though someone had directed a Cruciatus curse straight at his chest, from which the pain radiated throughout his body. Yet even the worst torture he had endured hardly compared with the sheer agony that burned in every cell of his body. With each frantic beat of his heart, the agony coursed through his veins. Draco realised belatedly that he was the one screaming.

The next thing he knew, a pulse of magic crashed over him, and he fell into a dark abyss as his mind shut down in a desperate attempt to regain homeostasis. The ache was still there, but it was duller. It almost felt as though he was disconnected from it entirely.

Thankfully, when he woke, she was there.

The soft aroma of honeysuckle, jasmine, and citrus filled the air around him. With every inhale, Draco felt a wave of calm wash over him. He could hear the steady beat of her heart to his left, and he found it matched the rhythm of his heart perfectly.

However, when he turned and opened his eyes in hopes of catching a glimpse of her, he was sorely disappointed. Instead of discovering who this mysterious woman was, Draco found himself blinded by the light of the early afternoon sun and the bright, white walls of a hospital room. He flinched visibly, which must have caught her attention. The scuffling of a chair grated on his ears as she leapt to his side. Her fingers ran tenderly across his brow, and Draco leaned further into her touch.

“Don’t push yourself,” she murmured.

Her voice sounded so familiar...

“Your mother should be back any moment now— Ah! Here she is!”

Draco frowned when the woman’s hand flew from his face as if she had been burned. She backed away from him and laughed nervously as the rich scent that was distinctly his mother surrounded him.

“He’s just waking up,” the woman said to his mother.

He felt different fingers pushing his fringe back and scratching against his scalp, the way Narcissa always did when Draco was a child.

“Thank you so much for staying with him, Miss—”

Until that moment, Draco was certain there was nothing more important than learning the woman’s identity. Yet, just as his mother prepared to reveal the exact information he needed, a more pressing matter presented itself. It all happened quickly, and Draco had no time to process before his instincts drove him into action.

The moment before Narcissa finished her sentence, the door opened, and a new scent filled the room. Leaping from the bed, he easily snapped the restraints that held his arms and legs in place. There was a sharp stinging that tore through the skin on his back, but Draco paid it little mind.

All that mattered was keeping her safe from the intruder.

He pulled the woman into his arms, noting briefly how perfect she felt in his embrace. A startled gasp fell from her lips when he quickly placed her behind him, effectively shielding her from the man that had just entered.

His mother was calling to him, but Draco couldn’t hear her clearly. It was as if he was submerged underwater, and his mother was far above the surface. The room around him was full of vivid colours, and he saw the vague shape of the man moving towards him. When Draco snarled, the man stumbled backwards but didn’t leave.

Draco felt himself growing in size as a threatening aura rolled off of him in waves. The ceiling loomed closer and closer. Was he growing taller? What kind of curse would cause sudden shifts in height? His mind scrambled to understand what was happening, while simultaneously focusing on the urgent need to protect her.

A small, delicate thumb rubbed soothing circles on his hip and startled Draco from his panicked thoughts. Another set of soft fingers ran gently along his spine.

“Malfoy, look at me.”

The soft command in her lilting tone was like music to his ears. Before he even turned, Draco knew. The woman was Hermione Granger.

A quiet voice in the obscure recesses of his mind whispered that she was his mate, but that was preposterous.

His mate? It made absolutely no sense.

Spinning and wrapping his arms around her, Draco dropped to his knees and folded himself around her. He burrowed his head into the crook of her neck, allowing her wild mass of curls to engulf him.

It felt like coming home.

Shadowy darkness surrounded them as black feathers formed a cocoon around the pair, but Draco was too distracted by her scent to notice. It overwhelmed his senses in the best possible way, serving to soothe him as his fingers ran up and down his sides in quiet reassurance.

Hands slid up his chest to cup his jaw, gently but insistently guiding him to meet her gaze.

“Malfoy—”

Gods, he wanted to hear his name on her lips for eternity. Draco couldn’t stop his eyes from flickering down to her pretty, plump mouth that was now twisted in a pout.

“Malfoy, pay attention!”

His eyes snapped back to meet hers.

“Granger.”

His voice was deep, rumbling, and entirely foreign to him. Hermione stroked her fingers across his jawline and smiled softly.

“It’s okay, Malfoy. I’m okay. You need to transform back.”

Draco looked at her quizzically. What was she talking about? It wasn’t as if he had control over whatever curse was cast on him.

“I know you can do it,” Hermione said with an encouraging smile.

A shift behind him reminded Draco of the threat that had thrown him into a frenzy, to begin with. He tried to turn and snarl at the man, but Hermione kept a firm grip on his face. He heard as Narcissa bitingly dismissed the stranger, but it wasn’t until the door shut that Draco felt himself relax.

“Come on now. The Healer is gone. You can shift.”

A Healer? Wouldn’t a Curse-Breaker make more sense?

“Focus, Malfoy.”

Her voice was firmer now, even as Hermione stroked the sharp line of his cheekbone. Draco closed his eyes and concentrated on her. Her fingers ghosted across against his skin. She fit perfectly in his arms as if she were made to be held by him. When his name rolled off her tongue, it was like a warm blanket settling over him. The sweet scent that was uniquely Hermione served as an anchor in the maelstrom of confusing emotions and sensations.

He matched his breaths with the beating of her heart, and slowly, he felt his body return to a more familiar form. When he opened his eyes, she was still smiling at him, albeit from a distance.

“Please, sit.” Hermione gestured towards the bed.

Draco collapsed in a heap of exhaustion. His body was buzzing with adrenaline, and his head was throbbing. He flashed a longing look at her. Hermione was too far away, perched in her chair. As if sensing his thoughts, she stood and dragged the seat until it was by his bedside. Draco didn’t realise he was reaching out towards her until Hermione twined their fingers together.

What in Merlin’s name was happening to him?

“I’m sure you’re confused,” she said.

He snorted. That was the understatement of the century.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Hermione asked.

“I was out with friends and then—” Draco winced at the memory of the pain. “It felt like my chest was being ripped in two.”

Hermione soothed her thumb across his hand.

“Your friends brought you to St. Mungo’s after you collapsed.”

“What happened?”

A look of hesitancy crossed Hermione’s face as her eyes flickered behind him, to where his mother sat. He heard robes shuffling as Narcissa stood and walked around the bed to face him.

“It seems that you’ve come into your inheritance...your Veela inheritance,” Narcissa said.

His what? He must be dreaming. This was simply a strange yet lucid dream. Maybe someone slipped a drug into his drink while he was out. That was the only explanation. In his stunned state, the silence dragged on.

“That’s where I come in. I’m here on behalf of the Ministry, to help you during the transition,” Hermione offered, noticing the confused look on his face.

She pulled her hands from him as her cheeks flushed crimson. Apparently, the mention of her employer served to remind Hermione of how inappropriate the contact was.

“But I could sense you. Even before the incident with the Healer, I could feel your presence. It’s what made the pain go away,” he said.

Astoundingly, her face turned an even darker hue at his admission. “Yes, well...”

Hermione trailed off and twisted the edge of her blouse between her fingers. It was a nervous tic she had since they were teenagers. Draco would never admit it aloud, but he spent considerable time watching her during their shared classes. He knew all her tells.

“What Miss Granger is too polite to say is that she’s your mate. That’s the reason for your reaction. Your magic chose her, and your body reacted accordingly. Of course, neither of us knew before your episode, or else precautions would have been taken,” Narcissa said.

“My mate?” Draco choked.

“I’ll give you two a moment of privacy.”

With that, his mother swept from the room.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not ideal. I’m sure I’m the last person you would want to be tied to like this,” Hermione whispered after several minutes passed.

“You’re sorry for me? What about you?”

“Well, it wasn’t how I was expecting my day to go, that’s for sure. But worse things have happened.”

He groaned. “Merlin, what are we going to do?”

“It’s a bit easier for me, I have, well... I have more choice in the matter. But we’ll be needing to spend time together anyway, so maybe we can get to know each other?”

She offered him a nervous smile, but Draco only gaped at her in response.

How could she be willing to even entertain the idea of being his mate, after all the torment he put her through? Sure, she readily accepted his apology when he sought her out after the war. When Pansy began dating Harry, Draco saw a bit more of Hermione, and they got along well enough.

She was sharp and incredibly witty, and although they still bickered, it was far more light-hearted and teasing. Draco enjoyed her company whenever they were forced together. Still, it wasn’t like they were friends. They were hardly more than acquaintances, even though she had testified at his trial.

Her eyes dropped as he remained silent, the rosy flush colouring her cheeks once more.

“Gods, that was awfully presumptuous of me. I can’t believe I completely disregarded the utter lack of agency you’re afforded. Please forget that I said anything. I just assumed when you asked about me...” She stood and began to gather her belongings before shrugging on her robes. “Anyway, I’ll start researching ways around mates. Your mother is right, of course, the signs are all there, but there may be a potion or spell that allows the bond to be broken, since it isn’t fully formed, yet.”

Hermione was half-way to the door before Draco’s body began to cooperate again.

“Wait!” His hand darted out to close around her wrist.

She stopped but still didn’t turn. When Draco rounded to face her, a sharp pang shot through him as she angrily brushed tears from the corners of her eyes. Her lip trembled, and there was nothing Draco wanted more than to pull her into his arms and comfort her.

“Don’t mind me,” she muttered. “The bond affects my emotions, too, it would seem.”

“Granger, I—”

“Please, stop. You don’t need to explain yourself or apologise. I’ll do everything I can to make sure your ability to choose your future is afforded to you. It’s good that the myth about Veela dying without their mate was debunked. Still, it would be ideal for you to be able to find a partner without feeling as though you’re betraying me. In the meanwhile, I’ll see that another person is assigned to your case.”

A surge of panic twisted his stomach into a knot at the thought of having to meet with someone else, and at the realisation that he wouldn’t have access to her. Draco frantically racked his brain, trying to find a way to convey that without appearing too desperate.

“Hold on now. That wouldn’t be fair. For as long as the bond exists, I’m practically incapacitated without you.”

She glanced up at him with narrowed eyes, sensing his manipulation immediately. Still, by some stroke of fate, she remained silent.

“Besides, you entirely misread my reaction before. For being the Brightest Witch and all that rubbish, you certainly do jump to conclusions.”

He couldn’t bite back the smirk that spread across his face. Hermione crossed her arms with a huff, casting a glowering look at him. This was much more familiar territory.

“If you had let me finish, I would have accepted your generous offer of getting to know one another. While I appreciate your suggestion of researching how to break the bond, I find that the idea makes ill. So, until you tell me to sod off, I’m yours.”

Her brown eyes softened at his final, vulnerable admission. She looked like she wanted to reach out and touch him, but she didn’t. Instead, she flashed him a small grin.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. You should be released today, so I’ll plan to visit you at the Manor if that’s alright.”

“It’s a date.”

She blushed prettily before turning to leave, and it took every ounce of self-control to not follow her.

* * *

The first meeting was awkward at the start, though that was to be expected. Draco met Hermione at the Floo precisely when she said she would arrive and escorted her through the Manor. They shared an uncomfortable tea in one of the sprawling estate’s many parlours, during which she went through a checklist. The questions were carefully designed to ensure his well-being and adaptation to his newfound heritage.

The night before, a terse conversation with his mother revealed he had the Black family tree to thank for the surprise birthright. Though when his choices were between going mad like his aunt and transforming into a terrifying magical creature, the latter seemed like the more favourable deal.

The questions Hermione was tasked with were intrusive and cumbersome, but it was a relief to have a semblance of structure. While Draco had spent considerable time wooing witches in the past, something about Hermione made him so nervous. He was reduced to a stammering schoolboy any time her lovely brown eyes locked on his. So, it wasn’t until she started through the thick packet that bore the Ministry’s official seal that he felt able to breathe for the first time.

She was focused intently on her paperwork, and Draco was offered the chance to study her more thoroughly.

Their encounter in the hospital was hardly the ideal time to drink in her beauty, but now it felt like he had all the time in the world.

His eyes slowly, greedily, roved her frame. He could have spent hours alone examining the riotous curls that spilt down her back. The hair that he so often teased her for as children was one of her best features. The shiny, thick strands seemed at a glance to be pure chaos. Yet, it was apparent upon further inspection that each curl had a precise place in which it belonged. The rich chestnut colour was interspersed with natural caramel highlights that wound through the coils in decadent little rivulets. When the sunlight caught it at just the right angle, strands of red and gold sparked. It was a brilliant thing to witness. He wanted to run his hands through it, to tangle his fingers in her curls. It would offer the perfect hold when he moulded his lips to hers.

His eyes darted to her pink mouth. Her tongue poked out for a moment to graze along her bottom lip before she pulled it between her teeth. Draco would give anything to be the one nibbling on that plump flesh. When Hermione furrowed her brows in a look of consternation, he took the opportunity to admire the freckles that decorated her nose and cheeks. Maybe one day, he would be fortunate enough to be close enough to count them.

Just then, her eyes turned up to meet his.

Draco should have been embarrassed at being caught staring at her, but he couldn’t force himself to look away. She smiled at him shyly, and all he could do was continue gawking as if he had been Stupefied.

She tucked a thicket of curls behind her ear, exposing the delicate column of her neck, and continued rifling through the packet. The pale skin would be the perfect place to bite her, to claim her. Before Draco fully realised what was happening, Draco felt his canine teeth elongating and sharpening…

Wait— That was absurd!

Draco shook his head imperceptibly and pinched his eyes shut. Several calming breaths later, the Veela within him was once more under control. His eyes opened and darted back to her, greedy to continue studying the woman before him.

It had been years since Draco could admit to himself that he found her beautiful. They were little more than strangers during their Eighth Year, but even then, Draco found his gaze drawn to her more often than not. Finally, without the threat of a Dark Lord or a hateful, controlling father, Draco acknowledged that the Muggle-born witch was, in fact, quite stunning. He knew that there was a good chance he found her attractive on a subconscious level, long before that.

Despite having allowed himself to privately admire her beauty, the transformation seemed to have only added to his fascination and admiration. If she was lovely before, now she was a radiant, ethereal goddess.

Draco must have been adequately answering her questions, even if his brain was entirely focused on appreciating her form. Unfortunately, she soon came to the end of the packet, which he only realised after Hermione coughed uncomfortably and startled him from his reverie.

An awkward silence settled on them once more, as the rhythmic ticking of the old clock filled the room. Minutes passed before Draco’s mother made her entrance, but it felt as though the time stretched on indefinitely. When Narcissa offered a nonchalant suggestion to give Hermione a tour of the grounds, Draco leapt at the opportunity. Anything to provide a semblance of normalcy to their strange situation.

They didn’t make it very far.

The moment they entered the library, a look of pure awe and wonderment lit Hermione’s features. Draco knew then that he would give anything to ensure she often wore that brilliant smile. They spent the remainder of her visit winding through the stacks and making a detailed list of all the titles she intended to borrow.

If he thought watching her leave the hospital was torturous, her parting from the Manor that day was pure agony. He wanted to hold her tightly and never let her go. Even as the thought crossed his mind, Draco acknowledged how deranged he sounded. He wondered briefly how she would react if he promised - or rather, begged - to follow her to the ends of the earth. Maybe Hermione could at least allow him to keep her company at work. However, it probably wouldn’t boost productivity at her job to have a lovesick Veela mate sitting in the corner of her office.

At the very least, he wished he could give her a kiss goodbye. It would give him something to dream about until he saw her again the following week.

The urge to be close to her only worsened as time went on.

This witch was once his fated enemy, solely based on her birth status and his prejudiced upbringing. She then became his unknowing saviour when she testified for him at his trial, in all her kindness and sense of justice. Finally, she settled into an unassuming role as his acquaintance when their lives irrevocably intertwined after their friends began dating. Now, overnight, she had become the single most important person in his life.

Though he hadn’t intended it, the Ministry-mandated visits were more dates than official meetings. Of course, Hermione always ensured that he answered all the necessary questions on how he was adjusting, whether there were any unexpected side effects, and so forth. However, it quickly became evident that she was as drawn to him and Draco was to her.

Her second visit to the Manor was also spent in the library after they breezed through the obligatory requirements. When their hands brushed as she passed a book to add to the ever-growing stack he carried for her, Draco thought he might faint. The sheer intensity of the magical surge that flowed between them went straight to his cock.

With a cough and a clumsy excuse, he lagged behind a bit to adjust himself. However, his erection didn’t subside until long after she was gone, and he finally succumbed to the urge to pleasure himself to thoughts of her. He imagined her hand in place of his, and her pretty brown eyes fixed on him as she brought him to his knees.

On the third visit, Draco managed to take her to the gardens. The loveliness that surrounded them as they strolled through his mother’s prized roses paled in comparison with the woman beside him. When they reached the gazebo that overlooked a large pond, the magic of the earth and the estate swirled around them. It was as if an invisible string connected him to Hermione, drawing her in until they were nearly chest to chest.

Her eyes dropped to his lips before meeting his, and Draco knew. The moment was perfect; if only he could be brave enough to take the leap. He leaned in to kiss her, desperate to finally satiate the hunger for her lips that seemed to grow with every passing minute. Yet, just before his mouth met hers, an irritatingly familiar voice startled them apart.

Of course, even when he wasn’t there, Harry would be a thorn in Draco’s side. Wasn’t it just the story of Draco’s life, to inevitably, undoubtedly be thwarted by Harry? It was the nature of their rivalry ever since they were at Hogwarts, and it appeared the pattern would continue into adulthood.

The other man was fortunate to not have been there in the flesh, or Draco might not have been able to resist the urge to hex him. In his place, Harry had sent his preposterous Patronus. What a showoff. The wispy buck promptly informed Hermione that she was needed by the Auror department on an urgent case. With a final, regretful look at him, she was gone.

For their fourth visit, Hermione informed him that they were required to meet out in society. It was the final test to determine whether he had become fully accustomed to his new abilities and whether he was adjusted enough to return to the wizarding world.

No matter how many times Draco told himself it wasn’t a date, it didn’t stop his heart from racing the moment he saw her at the cafe. They had arranged to meet at the end of the workday, but the simple sheath dress she wore was different from her typical work attire. Obviously, it was still appropriate for her job. Draco couldn’t help but wonder if she wore it, especially for him.

She piled her hair into a haphazard knot at the top of her head, held in place by her wand. As he drew near, a fond smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. She was chewing her lip as she read a book on Ancient Runes that couldn’t possibly have anything to do with work.

“Have you been waiting long?”

Hermione looked up with a start, returning his smile the moment her eyes landed on him.

“No, not at all. Since I worked through lunch, my supervisor insisted I leave a little early. It was too late though to change our appointment, so I brought a book along.”

Draco didn’t tell her that he was at her every beck and call. If she had asked him to meet her on the Moon, he would have found a way to do so.

“So, what questions do you have for me today?”

Although his fascination with her had only grown, Draco was much better now at multitasking. This meant he knew the routine by heart. There were a few additional inquiries that reminded him this was their last meeting.

What would it mean for their future?

They had taken the chance to get to know each other better, which was her initial suggestion. He now knew her favourite authors, the exact way she drank her tea, and how she wanted to become Minister one day. She pried childhood antidotes from him and learned that he preferred playing Chaser, rather than Seeker. Yet, the fact that she was his mate hadn’t come up.

There really wasn’t an easy way to slide it into the conversation. Truthfully, the mere thought of addressing it with her made Draco sweat nervously. Aside from their almost kiss the week before, Hermione hadn’t made any attempts to initiate contact.

He wasn’t blind, of course, and he could see the hungry way she looked at him whenever she thought his attention was elsewhere. The notion was hilarious. Everything else became background noise the moment she was in his vicinity. Whenever he did ‘catch’ her looking, Hermione would hastily look away as a rosy flush crawled across her neck and cheeks.

However, despite the clear attraction she had for him, Draco couldn’t help but wonder whether it was merely a byproduct of the pheromones he released. That was the part of the allure. He knew he was handsome. Draco had always been praised for his looks, with his pale skin and white-blond hair. However, even beyond that, there was now an added, innate ability to hypnotise and mesmerise people around him. Women and men readily threw themselves at his feet to impress him on the few occasions he ventured into public since the transformation.

There was no doubt that he had been desirable before. Beyond his appearance, he was obscenely wealthy. Further, even in the post-war world, the Malfoy name still carried a significant amount of prestige. His appeal was only magnified by his Veela inheritance.

If random witches and wizards were so significantly impacted, it would only stand to reason that Hermione would be even more affected. The entire Veela drive centred around securing their mate’s affections. He researched to try and find ways to control his pheromones whenever they were together. Yet, Draco knew that any attraction she might have towards him was only due to the biology of it all.

He was so distracted by his thoughts that the entire evening passed him by in a blur. Before Draco knew it, he was walking her up the steps of her building.

Would this be the last time they said goodbye?

His stomach twisted into an uncomfortable knot at the notion, and his pulse quickened as it dawned on him that maybe he needed to make his interest explicitly known. Yet, shouldn’t Hermione already be aware? The incident at the hospital was more than enough to showcase how utterly enamoured he was to her. He was inherently selfish and utterly spoilt, and he wanted her more than anything. Still, Draco had never been good at making himself vulnerable. Even if it meant going after what he truly desired, he hated to take the risk.

The magic swirled around them once more, swathing them in frantic, crackling, _palpable_ energy.

It felt as if they were back in the Manor gardens once more as Hermione shifted closer to him. Her eyes were dark with need. Her breathing was shallow and matched his own. However, this time, just as he lowered his head to capture her lips, a small hand landed on his chest.

“I know we almost did before, but we really shouldn’t.”

Pain and rejection flashed across his features. This was precisely why allowing himself to be susceptible was utter garbage. It left him unguarded and unprotected to heartache when she inevitably dismissed him.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she continued, “but you’re still technically my client.”

Her hand drifted to rest on his jaw, and she brushed her thumb against the corner of his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut. It was the most extended contact they shared since the hospital, and despite the distress that crashed through him, Draco found he was ravenous for more. Glancing down at his pocket watch, his lips quirked into an impish smirk.

“As of two minutes ago, you’re officially no longer my Ministry representative.”

A look of relief crossed her face, though it was coloured by a touch of annoyance at his smug attitude. He hadn’t noticed, but at some point, his hands landed on her hips. Draco took the opportunity to wind them behind her to rest at her back, so he could tug her closer to him.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop,” he murmured.

They were so close that his lips just barely grazed hers, but he had yet to claim her mouth. Her eyes were glassy with need as they flickered across his face in a hurried examination of his sharp features. They stayed suspended, neither making a move until a shout from above once broke their stupor.

“Oi, Hermione! When you’re done snogging Malfoy, get your arse up here. We’re due at the Burrow in three minutes, and Pansy will kill me if we’re late.”

It was that blasted, fucking scar-headed bastard again, ruining things as always.

At the interruption, Hermione jumped away from Draco with a start and whispered that she was sorry before sprinting up the stairs. He was left watching her retreating figure. Just before she disappeared from view, she stopped and looked at him. With a final bashful grin, she vanished.

Draco should write to her, right?

That was what he would have done, in any other instance. Many wizards liked to play it cool and make the witch come to them, but that had never been Draco’s style. If he was interested in a woman, he was sure to let them know.

Hermione wasn’t just any witch, though. She was his mate. A predestined, perfect partner that the Fates had selected for him. He wanted to pursue her more than anything. He didn’t want to ever leave her side. Still, he also wanted her to choose him. It meant nothing if she had no say in the matter. Thanks to the Veela magic she was obviously interested in him, but without it, would Hermione actually want him?

Draco knew he had done more than enough to indicate how thoroughly besotted he was with her. Maybe now it was time to allow to seek him out. If he gave her space, that would provide Hermione with some semblance of choice. Though it pained him to his very core to consider staying away from her, Draco was determined that it was the least he could do, after all the hurt and harm he caused her.

* * *

Ever consistent and dutiful in her communication, Hermione sent Draco an owl several days later. She informed him that she would be leaving the country for a while. Apparently, Hermione hadn’t taken a single day of vacation since starting at the Ministry two years prior and was long overdue for some time off. She planned to use the trip to consider their situation more and see if she could find more information on the mate bond.

Draco felt his heart sink as his eyes scanned her careful penmanship.

He knew she was going to look for ways to overcome the bond between them. Despite the pull that she felt when under the influence of his pheromones, it was clear that Hermione didn’t want him. The universe couldn’t have played a crueller joke on him by selecting her as his Veela mate.

Of all the people, his magic just had to be the person he tormented throughout Hogwarts, the witch who he made feel inferior time and time again. The woman that was tortured in his family’s drawing-room, by his own aunt, as Draco stood frozen and unable to intervene. The fact that he thought he ever had a chance with Hermione was laughable.

A week stretched into two, then three. Hermione sent Draco another owl after the second week. She was consulting with the French government on a Centaur case. Thus, she would be further delayed in returning to the country. Before Draco realised it, nearly a month had passed since he last saw her. The ever-present pang in his chest had dulled in their time apart. He thought offhandedly that it must be true that a Veela could survive without their mate. The irony of it was that every moment without her felt a step closer to death. All-in-all, it was a rather awful experience that he would not recommend to anyone.

The world without her was tedious and wearisome. Maybe if Draco gave it enough time, his heart would forget the way Hermione brought warmth and light with her wherever she went, or how the sound of her laugh made him feel like he was flying. Eventually, Draco might be able to ignore the pull he felt towards her enough to move on, but that wasn’t what he wanted.

Despite her communications, there wasn’t much to do other than waste away without her. Draco knew she was far too kind to let him down via owl. All that was left was to retreat to the quiet solitude of his room. There he would wait for her to return, just so she could break his heart in person.

Draco ignored the owls from Theo and Blaise’s attempts to Floo call him. His only companions were the books she read and promptly returned to his library, and memories of her brown eyes and soft smiles.

An infinitesimal spark of hope lit within him when she returned from her trip and immediately reached out, asking him to meet her at her apartment the following day.

Could it be that she changed her mind?

A long month of wallowing in his misery would be easy to put behind him if Hermione decided that she did want him. Though Draco tried his utmost not to sound entirely desperate in his return letter, he knew he failed miserably. It was impossible to contain his excitement at finally being able to see her again.

Selecting his sharpest black jumper and matching trousers, Draco paced in front of his fireplace as he waited to Floo through to her living room. The anticipation of the meeting was making it difficult to control the Veela within him. However, Draco knew it wouldn’t do to transform and potentially scare her away. As soon as the clock chimed at the hour they agreed upon, he tossed the powder into the fire and yelled out her address.

The first thing he noticed was her. She must have spent some time in the sun, Draco thought to himself. There was a gold hue to her skin, and he thought he saw a few new freckles splattered across her nose and shoulders.

“Hi,” she said.

Hermione flashed him an encouraging smile as she took a step towards him. His feet carried him across the distance that separated them without another thought.

“Hi,” he whispered, stopping in front of her.

“Do you want some tea?”

Draco nodded, and Hermione directed him to the couch as she levitated the tray from the kitchen. She poured him a cup, preparing it just the way he liked it. Silence weighed heavily between them. He didn’t dare to speak first, for fear of professing his undying love and begging her to give him a chance.

Hermione held her own cup tightly, studying it as if it were a challenging Arithmancy problem that she was trying to solve. Then, seeming to remember that she was the one who asked him to meet, Hermione coughed and glanced up at him.

“How have you been? Any spontaneous transformations?”

“That only seems to happen around you.”

The ghost of a smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“Ah,” she said with a small grin of her own. “Well, I guess I should feel special, then.”

Lest another awkward pause suffocate them, Draco dove off the cliff, into uncertainty and possible, or rather, likely, rejection.

“Why did you invite me over, Granger?”

She chewed at her lip nervously, and Draco felt his heart sink.

“I searched and searched for a solution to your problem,” she started.

“My...problem?”

“Yes, well, the fact that I accidentally triggered the bond when I touched your forehead at the hospital only makes it more difficult—” Hermione took a deep, steadying breath. “I should have known better, I shouldn’t have behaved so irresponsibly, but you were so distressed, and I never imagined in a million years that I would be your mate.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said.

“I know, I know, but all the readings I found indicated that it would have been easier to overcome the whole mate thing if the bond wasn’t initiated.”

So, there it was. Hermione didn’t want to be his mate. Draco felt a mask of indifference shift into place as he came to terms with the understanding that Hermione would never choose him.

Draco knew that he had subconsciously been drawn to her from the moment they met. His fascination with her and the pull he felt around Hermione had scared him as a child. He wasn’t supposed to want someone of her birth status. Then, as adults, his logical mind tried to convince him that she was far out of his league.

That was why he always kept her at an arms’ length. Yet, in the months leading to his birthday, being with other witches lost its ability to distract him. While he hadn’t been ready to admit that he wanted Hermione, he found himself alone at the end of nights out more and more often.

Once he transformed, the Veela magic no longer allowed him to deny the feelings he tried to bury for so long. It chose her as his mate. He couldn’t imagine himself wanting anyone else the way he wanted her. Still, Hermione should have a choice in the matter. If her choice wasn’t him, Draco would have to learn to live with it.

After all, he only had himself to blame.

“Malfoy?”

Her voice startled him from his contemplation, and his eyes flickered to meet hers. She was watching him with pity, or maybe remorse? Draco hated it. All he wanted was for her to be able to live her life, without feeling guilty about ruining his.

“You don’t want to complete the bond,” he said woodenly, after another moment’s pause. “Thank you for considering it, at least, and for trying to find a way around it, I suppose. If that’s all—”

Placing his cup on her coffee table, he stood.

“Wait, Malfoy...or, I should say, Draco, I never said I didn’t want—”

“Spare me, Granger. You keep talking about the situation as if it’s bothersome to me. Do you remember what I told you? The first day, at the hospital?”

Pain at the loss of a future he had already begun to build up in his mind gave way to frustration. It was easier to get angry and allow irritation to seep into his tone than to consider the gravity of a long life without her.

She reached out, seemingly wanting to soothe him, but thought better of it. Her hand fell back to her side, and it felt like a knife was tearing through his chest. Instead of letting her witness his pain, he steeled his gaze.

“I told you that I was yours. I’ve always wanted this. I’ve always wanted you, I think, even before I realised it. I don’t care anymore about things like blood status, and if I could go back in time and change the way I treated you, I would. As it stands, you’re too good for me. I’ll never deserve you, but that won’t stop me from wishing you were mine. So, don’t act like you’re doing me any favours.”

Before Hermione could respond, he spun and Disapparated back to the Manor.

With a flick of his wrist, the curtains shuttered against the afternoon sun. He crawled into his bed, summoning a vial of the sleeping potion he had concocted.

It combined elements of Sleeping Draught and Dreamless Sleep, and despite the early hour, it was precisely what he needed. Tossing his head back and swallowing the potion in a single gulp, Draco settled back into his mattress and succumbed to the darkness that engulfed him.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed.

It could have been days, weeks, or months. All Draco focused on was numbing the pain he felt without her. Vaguely, he knew he was showering, and the poor house-elf ensured he was eating. Everything else could wait. There would be a day in the future where he could get up and not feel like he was going to die. Until that day came, he would continue doing the bare minimum to survive.

Despite his descent into self-loathing, accompanied by a healthy dose of dramatic flair, only half a week had passed since he fled from Hermione’s apartment. He was burrowed under the covers when the door opened, and his mother swept in to open his curtains. She hastily cast a cleansing charm on his bed sheets and clothes.

Briefly, Draco considered the costs and benefits of hexing her. Yet, before he could act, his mother pulled the duvet from his head rather unceremoniously and poked his side with her wand. A small jolt of magic sent him flying from the bed.

“You have a guest,” his mother said in greeting.

“I don’t want to see anyone.” Crossing his arms petulantly, Draco moved towards the window.

The sun had no business being so bright. Not when it felt like he would never experience the warmth, now that Hermione was permanently gone from his life.

“I didn’t ask,” she responded curtly. “You will entertain Miss Granger—”

“No, I won’t see her, mother. She doesn’t want me, and she made that abundantly clear. I don’t know why she’s here, probably some stupid Gryffindor sense of guilt, but please get rid of her.”

“I will do no such thing. While I’m fond of the girl, I’m at my wits’ end. She hasn’t given me a minute of peace over the past few days, since you won’t respond to her owls.”

“I have nothing to say to her, nor do I owe her anything.”

They both knew that Draco was lying, but Narcissa was kind enough not to expose him. If only she would drop the subject and allow him to continue indulging in the ever gratifying self-pity and sorrow. Unfortunately, Narcissa was not a woman that was easily dissuaded, once she set her mind on a goal.

“I suspect she’ll be fine with you just listening, and really, you owe her that much,” she said with an air of finality. “I cannot believe that I defied the Dark Lord, only for my son, my pride and joy, to run from his mate like a timid little Pygmy Puff the moment things didn’t go exactly his way.”

She levelled a cold glare at him that would have struck fear in the bravest of wizards.

“Do I stand any chance at persuading you to change your mind?”

Setting her hands on his arms, his mother flashed him a brief smile.

“No, you don’t. Much to my chagrin, you’ve inherited your father’s tendency towards obtuseness. Thus, it falls to me to ensure you don’t thoroughly muck things up with the witch who has now been waiting far too long in the hallway. You will see her, and you will be the perfect gentleman I raised you to be. Am I understood?”

Draco released a long-suffering sigh.

“Yes, mother.”

“Good.”

His mother leaned in to kiss his cheek before leaving the room just as abruptly as she came in. A minute passed after she closed the door before a timid knock alerted Draco to his guest. He cast a final charm to freshen up his appearance and strode to the door.

The moment he saw her, all the progress he’d made towards moving on crumbled. He hadn’t made much movement towards his objective to forget her. Still, being in her presence served as a painful reminder that he would never fully be over Hermione.

“Granger,” he said stiffly.

“Thank you for seeing me.”

He raised a brow and looked down at her.

“Between you and my mother, I don’t know that I had much choice.”

“You’re right, but still, thank you anyway.”

She offered him a smile and Draco had to fight the muscles of his cheeks to resist grinning like a lovesick idiot in return.

“Should we meet here, or somewhere else?” she asked.

Draco nearly fainted at the idea of having her in his room. After all the time spent considering her first time in his space, this wasn’t how he imagined it.

“Somewhere else.”

He closed the door behind him and led her down the hall. Once they were settled in the library, tea was offered, and Draco turned his attention to her. She appeared anxious, which matched how he felt.

“I think there was a serious misunderstanding the other day when you were at my flat...” Hermione trailed off, but when Draco failed to respond, she continued. “That is to say, I’m not opposed to the bond.”

He wasn’t able to suppress a scoff. Obviously, Hermione wanted nothing to do with him and insulting that she would try to insist otherwise.

“I swear, Draco! When I was researching more about it, I wanted you to have a choice. I didn’t want you to want me solely because it was what your magic dictated. I realised after you left how inappropriately I handled it, and how my actions might have been misconstrued—”

“Is the great Hermione Granger admitting that she made a mistake? Wonders never cease.”

She glared at him. “I didn’t say that. Only that I could have gone about it differently…”

“That sounds like a mistake to me.” He smirked. “At the very least, it’s a sign that you’re not as perfect as the public has been led to believe.”

“I’ve never said I was infallible!”

“And yet, you refuse to acknowledge the error of your ways.”

“Gods, you’re impossible.” She groaned. “I messed up, okay? I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you, of course, but it is sweet to hear those words from your pretty lips.”

A blush spread across her cheeks, and she glanced down at her lap.

“I won’t say that this whole situation hasn’t been entirely overwhelming, but I do want this, Draco. I want you.”

“Why?” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Hermione blinked at him owlishly. “What?”

“Why do you want me? I was such a prat to you in school and, well, my family has caused you so much pain.”

“You’ve apologised to me at least three times, which is especially astounding considering I didn’t think you knew how to admit wrongdoing—”

“Something we have in common,” he said in an attempt to regain control.

“For the love of Merlin, let me finish!” She laughed and rolled her eyes. “I know you had no choice, both in the hateful rhetoric your father forced down your throat, and in the servitude, you were coerced into so you could protect your mother.”

Reaching out to him, Hermione covered his hand with her smaller one. Emboldened by her gesture, Draco flipped his hand and twined their fingers together.

“As for the sins of your father and aunt, I won’t hold you responsible for either,” she said quietly. “I’ve seen the man you’ve become, and while these developments aren’t what I would have expected, I’m not upset. If magic has decided we’re a perfect match, I see no reason to fight it. I swear, all the research, I did it for you.”

Draco swallowed audibly at the implication.

“Hermione, is this– Are you absolutely sure that this is what you want?”

It wasn’t like her to reject reason in favour of forces that couldn’t be seen or understood through a book. Draco suspected that it was part of why she was such a formidable witch.

While there was a certain extent of blind faith required in performing magic, Hermione made it her mission to also understand as much about their world as possible. She always studied mechanics of spells, magical theory, and the foundations upon which their abilities were hypothesised to stem from.

“All the readings I found were fairly conclusive.”

A sigh of relief escaped him. Hermione wasn’t making the decision blindly. The conclusion she arrived at was one made after methodical and thorough investigation. Draco could have been offended by her lack of faith in the magic of it all, but it was better this way. If Hermione had studied the bond and decided to go through with it based on the research, she would be less likely to regret her decision.

“It seems, Draco Malfoy, that you and I are predestined to be.”

She smiled at him a bit shakily. Her eyes dropped to his mouth before returning to meet his own. Draco fought the desire to pull her into his lap and kiss her senseless. Instead, he squeezed her hand and returned her grin with a smirk of his own.

“We were always inevitable, weren’t we?”

* * *

The time that followed was the happiest Draco had ever been.

His childhood wasn’t exactly horrible, seeing as he was born into the lap of luxury and privilege, but it was cold and detached with few overt signs of affection. The first several years at Hogwarts might have been grand since he was a princeling among his peers. Yet, he was still as lonely as he had been at the Manor. Gregory and Vincent were more lackeys than friends, and there was little that Draco desired more than real closeness with another. When Voldemort rose, Draco could do little more than hope to survive and ensure his mother was safe. He felt incredibly alone during that period, and in the time since.

All along, he was really just missing Hermione, even if he didn’t understand it.

Now that he had her, Draco wasn’t sure how he survived so long without her touch. Ever since the pesky business of actually talking and sorting out what they wanted, the relationship had bloomed. They agreed to take it slow. It was the least Draco could do for her, in exchange for the promise of forever.

Still, she was free with her affection, and Draco soon found himself addicted to her touch.

On several nights during the week, he found himself sprawled across her couch, with Hermione tucked snuggly into his side. They spent entire evenings side-by-side on the loveseat in the Manor’s library, her legs covering his and their fingers clasped together. When they ventured out into public, Hermione slid her hand around his elbow or slipped beneath his arm so that it wrapped around her shoulder, as if it were the most natural thing to do.

She was as drawn to Draco as he was to her. He honestly couldn’t get enough of her, as if he had been trudging through an endless desert and she was the drink of water he so desperately needed.

Every time she snogged him, it felt like his heart was going to burst from his chest.

Their first kiss happened a week after her unexpected appearance at the Manor. One minute she was showing him how to work the Muggle contraption she called a television. The next, Draco was teasing her about something, though he couldn’t recall what it was. Before he knew what was happening, Hermione was no more than a breath away, staring at his lips.

He bit back a groan when the chime of her Floo sounded as a call came through. When Harry’s voice filled the apartment, Draco didn’t bother stifling a colourful string of curse words. What surprised him was that Hermione swore, too. With a terse warning to Harry to not interrupt her for the rest of the night unless someone was dying, Hermione launched herself into Draco’s lap.

She stole his breath away when her mouth met his. Her lips were even softer and sweeter than he could have possibly imagined. Hermione threaded her fingers through his hair as she dominated the kiss and pulled a growl from him as she nipped his bottom lip. Her tongue laved across the tender skin before pressing against the seam of his mouth. When he granted her access, and she brushed it against his, Draco nearly came in his trousers.

It was up to him to stop the kiss before it progressed to a point he knew she wasn’t ready for, and it took more self-control than Draco was aware he possessed. He managed to do it, though, with incredible difficulty. The sight of her swollen, reddened lips and glazed eyes was one he would carry with him for eternity. Hermione was resplendent as she watched him from beneath hooded lids, her breath coming to her in soft pants. Her curls were riotous and beautiful in their chaos.

A small smirk spread across Draco’s lips at the knowledge that he had done that to her. The hair he admired for so long was frenzied in its disarray because of him.

Since then, she had taken every opportunity afforded to them to kiss him senseless. Each time, it knocked Draco off his feet. He would never grow accustomed to the way she fit so perfectly against him and the heat that pooled in his core whenever their lips met.

He could only imagine what it would be like to finally take her to bed.

Hermione had asked early on if they could wait before taking the next step physically in their relationship. They both knew that their first time would also likely be when the bond would be completed. It would be nearly impossible for them to join without the mating ritual being actualised. Even though it pained him to resist his urges, Draco knew it was essential to take it slow.

The mere fact that he was able to be with her was enough to satiate the Veela. As time progressed, he and Hermione became inseparable. Even as weeks turned into months, he couldn’t complain. Nevertheless, when she finally initiated the conversation about their mating, Draco found it hard to contain his excitement.

“Are you sure you’re ready, love?”

His inner Veela screamed at him for not pouncing on her immediately, but Draco refused to pressure her. Hermione looked at him with a bashful smile and tucked a curl behind her ear.

“I’m sure, Draco. You’ve been so patient, and I’m finally ready. I’m only sorry for making you wait for so long.”

He wanted to tell her that he would wait a lifetime for her but opted to kiss her soundly instead. Then a startling awareness washed over him and stifled his joy. For the first time since the hospital, Hermione would see his Veela form. What if it frightened her? Knowing he couldn’t avoid the topic forever, Draco pulled away and cupped her face in his hands.

“When we mate—” He winced at the wording, even though there really wasn’t any other way to say it. “I’m going to be transformed.”

“Okay?”

Her brows furrowed and her eyes flickered across his face as if she was trying to ascertain what exactly he was saying.

“I’m not sure if you, ah, remember how I looked at St. Mungo’s, but…that’s what I’m going to look like again.”

In the time that passed since his birthday, Draco transformed a handful of times, in the privacy of his own suite. The results were always the same. He grew in height by nearly thirty centimetres, and large wings with ebony feathers sprouted from his back. His eyes darkened until the grey of his irises was merely a thin silver band. Frankly, he looked a bit frightful, like a monster or some other fallen creature.

Though that was the whole point, wasn’t it? While Veela were beautiful and alluring in their human form, the transformation was meant to evoke terror in their enemies. Except, he didn’t want it to scare Hermione away.

She ran her fingers gently across his mouth and grounded Draco back in the moment.

“I fail to see the problem,” she said softly.

“I just don’t want you to feel uneasy around me.”

“I won’t.” Hermione pressed a light kiss to his lips. “In fact, I quite like it.”

“Bloody Gryffindors and their utter lack of self-preservation.”

Laughing, he folded his arms around her waist and settled her firmly against his hard form.

“I would think you might be grateful for that particular trait, all things considered.”

Draco hummed in agreement as his mouth fell to her neck.

“When do you want to do it?”

His breath ghosted across her skin as his lips found the sensitive spot beneath her ear. She shifted in his lap and whined when he nipped at her throat.

“Now?”

Draco stiffened and looked at her.

“Now?” he repeated.

“If you want to,” she said.

With a growl, he scooped her into his arms and stalked across her small apartment to the bedroom. Placing her gently onto her bed, Draco watched her chest rise and fall heavily. Her pupils were blown wide with arousal, and when she licked her lips, it sent a jolt of need straight to his cock.

“Are you absolutely certain?”

“Yes, Draco,” she murmured. “Please, I want you.”

Unable to suppress his urges any longer, Draco transformed with a resounding roar as his wings shredded the fabric of his shirt. He tore his pants from his frame and cast them aside, captivated by the way she hastily shed her own clothing.

Crawling over her, Draco hungrily pressed his mouth to hers as his fingers mapped out her curves and the scars scattered across her skin.

“You’re so beautiful.” His lips brushed against hers. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“All yours,” she agreed, rolling her hips up as she sought relief.

He slotted himself between her thighs. His lips trailed down the column of her throat and to her clavicle. Continuing his exploration, Draco mouthed at the top of her breast before circling her nipple with his tongue. A needy cry escaped her, and her back bowed off the bed as his teeth teased the pert bud.

While he could have spent all night attending to her luscious tits, Draco tore himself away and continued to leave a trail of kisses as he slid further down her body. When he finally reached the apex of her thighs, he was pleased to find her slick and ready for him.

The scent of her arousal was intoxicating, and a throaty groan erupted from him when he ran his tongue across her folds. His wings stretched out in a brilliant display as Draco buried his face into her cunt, desperate to drink every drop of here.

Hermione threaded her fingers through his hair as her hips rolled to meet the thrusts of his tongue. When he sucked on her clit, she screamed and tightened her legs around his head. There would never be a better experience in his entire life than being suffocated by her thighs as she came on his tongue. Studying her reactions, Draco soon discovered the exact ways to make her fall apart. He slid a finger into her, relishing the way her velvet walls contracted around him. A second finger joined the first, then a third as he stretched her cunt in preparation for his cock.

For her part, Hermione had tugged at his hair and plead with him to just fuck her already. Draco wouldn’t relent until she was thoroughly satiated, though. After he pulled a second orgasm from her, Draco released her legs in favour of slotting himself above her. Her face was flushed, and sweat dripped down her temples. A halo of her curls stretched across the bed around her as Hermione watched him.

She wound her arms around his neck, pulling his face down to taste her essence on his mouth. A groan erupted from Draco when she ran her tongue across his lower lip in a move that always made him weak.

“Mate with me, Draco,” she said, and he had no choice but to acquiesce.

Holding the base of his erection as he lined himself to her, Draco nearly collapsed as he slowly began to sheath his cock into her molten heat. It was a divine sensation, to be wholly surrounded by her. Hermione’s eyes were blown wide, and her teeth teased her lip as he paused and allowed her to adjust to the intrusion.

“Gods,” she whispered.

He pressed a soft, reverent kiss to her lips. “I know.”

His hips began to rock against her slowly, gently, as he surrendered to the coupling. Draco felt as his magic reached out to join with hers and surround them. The urge to bite her neck and claim her was overwhelming, but Draco was determined to savour their first time together. He had waited what felt like ages for her, the Veela imperative could be pushed aside for a little longer.

It was only at her urging that Draco picked up the pace, as her heels dug into his arse and her fingers dug into his shoulders. Her cries and mewls filled the room, and the look of sheer rapture on her face was the most incredible sight he had ever seen. As her cunt began to pulse around him, Draco knew she was approaching the precipice of bliss.

Engulfing her hip with his hand, Draco brushed his thumb against her clit in a steady rhythm to match the pace of his hips. He kissed her sweetly before nudging her chin with his nose. His lips traced her jawline before dropping to the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

Her chest brushed against his with every thrust of his cock. When she came for the third time, it was his name spilling from her lips. Draco sunk his teeth into her sweet skin, then, relishing the way her core squeezed at his length as she fell over the edge.

The magic pulsed and spiked around them as he followed her into bliss and filled her with his seed. Flicking his tongue out to swipe at the puncture marks on her neck, Draco held her tightly in his embrace as his lips soothed the tender skin.

It wasn’t until she tugged at his hair and pulled him from her throat that he looked at her.

_His mate._

“Hi,” she said, smiling at him.

Draco couldn’t resist kissing her. “Are you okay?”

“More than. That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

His cock twitched at the praise, a response that she immediately noticed. Hermione laughed and pulled his lips to hers once more.

“Are you okay?” she asked, echoing his question.

“I can honestly say I’ve never been better. Let me just shift back—”

“No!” Wrapping herself more tightly around him, Hermione held him firmly in place.

He lifted his brow in question, unsure of what to make of her response. “No?”

Fingers traced up the ladder of his ribs before brushing the base of his wings.

“Don’t laugh.” She glared at him in warning. “But I really do like you in this form.”

Draco pulled his lip between his teeth to stifle a chuckle.

“Is that so? I was so certain you would find it frightening, or off-putting at the very least.”

“You’re not nearly as scary as you like to think you are, Draco Malfoy.” A cheeky grin spread across her face. “I wasn’t afraid of you when we were children, and I’m certainly not now.”

Schooling his features into an affronted look, he tickled her sides in punishment.

“If only—” She gasped. “If only everyone knew—” Another giggle as she pushed Draco off. “What a soft, summer boy you really are beneath the facade.”

“Granger, how dare you? I am hurt and offended.”

At that, he shifted off of here and began to roll to his side, before thinking better of it. He wasn’t certain whether wings could be laid on, but he also wasn’t in any hurry to find out. Standing instead, he closed his eyes and concentrated on shifting back. When his eyes flickered back open, Draco found Hermione watching him with a bemused gaze as she kneeled on the bed.

“C’mere, you silly Veela.”

She stretched her arms out to him, and Draco couldn't stop himself from moving into her embrace. A soft, contented sigh spilt from him as her hands came to rest against his back. The sex had been mind-blowing, exceeding all expectations. Still, there was nothing compared to when she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck pressed her supple frame against him.

Pulling her into his arms, Draco held her tightly to his chest and spun to lay on the mattress. Hermione was sprawled across his chest. He buried his nose into her curls as her fingers traced his scars. As her breathing slowed and sleep claimed her, Draco knew.

It would be easy to spend eternity, just like this.

**Author's Note:**

> It was only a matter of time that I would write a creature fic, after I began writing for this fandom. It's one of my favorite tropes, and I hope you enjoyed my interpretation!
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/sweetestsorrows), [Tumblr](https://sweetestsorrows.tumblr.com/), and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/sweetest_sorrows/).


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